


An Earlier Heaven

by zinger17



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Sick Fic, in which the Dark One is a terrible patient
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2014-12-05
Packaged: 2018-02-28 06:53:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2722853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zinger17/pseuds/zinger17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“A happy family is but an earlier heaven.” – John Bowring</p><p>Sometimes it takes the most unexpected things to show us where home is. Or, in which the Dark One battles tiny pathogens, Henry is concerned, and Belle saves the day. Again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Earlier Heaven

Gold cautiously places the delicate, restored vase into the cabinet and closes the door, turning the little lock he’d installed several weeks ago. Despite these particular pieces lacking great value, modern money or ancient magic, while with snow monsters and ice queens running amok, it paid to exercise caution. Carefully easing himself down into his chair, the pawnbroker bites back a groan. A long day of recording and categorizing is almost behind him and all he wants is a simple supper of soup and sandwiches at Granny’s, a stiff drink, and then bed precisely in that order.

He isn’t getting sick, Gold tells himself firmly as he attempts to muster enough resolve to make his way to the front of the shop. The low-grade headache simmering in his forehead is merely a side effect from so much time squinting at small numbers, not because of some impending illness. And anyone would be tired after sitting in the same position for eight hours, pouring over paperwork.

He may be pushing fifty five but he certainly isn’t falling apart at the seams. He hasn’t taken ill in over a century and he’s not about to break that streak now. Really, it’s a testament to his iron will and immense self-control that he never once even considered closing up early and going home. The Dark One, Scourge of the Enchanted Forest will not be bested by tiny, pathetic pathogens. He will carry on, terrorizing the town of Storybrooke with his usual proper balance of both dignity and menace.

Gold plops his head onto the work table and whimpers.

“Grandpa?”

Lifting his head up takes much more effort than it normally would. Squinting, he sees Henry’s confused and worried face peering down at him.

The boy shifts uncomfortably, all awkward angles and gangly limbs in spite of the smart, color coordinated suit he sports. “Are you alright?” His grandson reaches out to touch his shoulder, hesitates, then withdraws.

Odd, how much that hurts right at this moment. “Henry,” Smiling is difficult with drums pounding behind your eye sockets Gold discovers. “I’m perfectly fine lad. Go on and finish cleaning up the glass cases, then you can go home.”

The boy, drat him, doesn’t cooperate and promptly retreat. Instead he steps closer, shooting him a doubtful look. “Are you sure? You look…kinda…I dunno…green,” Henry frowns, worrying his lip with his teeth. “Maybe we should call Belle?”

“No!” The barked out order causes Henry to jump but he still doesn’t scamper away, jaw tightening with a familiar stubborn look that lets Gold know he’d better get his ass moving right quick and nip this trouble in the bud.

Henry might prove himself fairly hard to shake off but Rumpelstiltskin wasn’t a master showman for nothing. There was more than one way to skin a cat.

“Green, hmm? You should have seen me in the Enchanted Forest,” he smirks, summoning up his best here-there-be-monsters grin and high off-putting giggle. That’s enough to distract the lad, eyes popping out as he remembers who he’s talking to- the malevolent imp from the stories he’d devoured in his storybook so long ago. There. That ought to do it. Gold sprawls back, all confidence and flash. “Go on then Henry. Leave the old ogre to his own business then?”

Henry purses his lips, looking alarmingly like his adopted mother for a moment before relenting and returning to the front for the shop. Gold holds position until the lad disappears, then promptly folds forward, the brief battle sapping the last of his strength.

A few moments- minutes?- later, Gold forces himself to stir from his prone postion. Pushing himself out his seat, the Dark One stumbles over toward the makeshift bed in the corner. After fumbling a few moments, his fingers weak and uncooperative, he manages to mostly pull the neatly folded blanket on the end of the divan over himself. Closing his eyes, Gold shivers, suddenly freezing and focuses on resting his throbbing head.

A soft hand smoothing over his forehead pulls him out of his stupor. Murmuring voices buzz over his head, hushed and vague. “He’s very warm,” Gold hears, the hand shifting to cup his cheek. More murmuring. “No, you were right to call me,” the voice continues and Gold finally cracks his eyes open. 

His wife swims into view, sitting beside him as Henry hovers behind her, distress written all over his face. “I just found him like this. Shouldn’t we call doctor Whale?”

“Let’s wait and see,” Belle sooths, turning to look down at him. At seeing his eyes open and staring back at her, a smile lights up her whole face. “You’re awake,” she whispers, brushing his hair back.

He wants to tell her how beautiful she looks with her hair pulled back like that, how glad he is to see her, how much better it feels with her here. But all that comes out is a croaked, “Yeah.”

Taking his hand in hers, Belle bites her lip and searches his face. “You’re running a fever sweetheart. Do you think you can stand up? We need to get you home.”

Standing up is the absolute last thing in the world he wants to do but for Belle, he’d slay dragons. “Yeah.” Gold nods, sending the world spinning again.

He’s not sure what exactly happens after that, the world continuing to twist and swirl awkwardly. He remembers Belle at his side, supporting him as he sways on his feet. He remembers Henry’s young, strong hands at his back helping him negotiate his way into the Cadillac. Flashes of a wintery Storybrooke whizzing by sometimes pop up in his memory. Gold’s mind floats in and out, slippery as black ice, drifting back when hobbling his way into his house with wife and grandson supporting him on either side, moving slowly toward the stairs.

“That’s it, Rumple,” Belle encourages, huffing as they move into the large bedroom. “Here we go, into up into bed now,” and he thinks he should be embarrassed to be seen like this but he can’t quite hold onto it.

Soft, little hands busily divest him of his shirt, tie, and pants, smoothing his brow when he moans in protest. “Cold,” he gasps out. Belle’s eyes brim with sympathy.

“I know darling, I know. Almost there,” she soothes. Quickly pulling his pajamas over his head, she allows him to fall back into his glorious, glorious bed. “Here you go. Henry,” Belle calls over her shoulder, “come watch your grandfather. I’m going to gather some things he needs alight?”

Gold is too busy drifting to hear what’s said but when he opens his eyes, the lad is sitting beside him, observing closely. His dark eyes widen at the sight and dart to the doorway, searching for Belle.

Gold watches him, heart and head both aching. “Do I frighten you, son?” The words surprise them both. Henry jolts blinking rapidly. “Uh…I…kinda. Yeah.”

He looks so much like Bae. So much like the young man Bae could have been. “When your father was sick he wouldn’t ever let me rest. I had to sing a lullaby to him over and over and over until he slept. And even then I had to sit and hold his hand.”

Gold’s throat feels like sandpaper after his speech, raw with sickness and emotion, but it’s worth it to see Henry’s awed face. “I don’t want you to be frightened of me Henry,” he finishes, rasping out the words. 

The lad tilts his head, eyes never leaving Gold’s face. In this too, he is like Bae, inquisitive and unyielding. Its’ disconcerting at the best of times, much more when disgustingly weak and ill. Gold’s eyes drift shut, heavy as lead.

He jerks when a sturdy hand suddenly takes his. Henry smiles uncomfortably, scooting closer on the bed. “I don’t want to be scared of you either,” his grandson acknowledges, turning his hand over to clasp Gold’ more firmly.

“Alright, I’m back,” Belle calls out, bustling in arms full of various medicine. She stops short at the sight of them sitting together hand in hand, face filling with emotion when they turn to look at her. Gold smiles hazily, reaching out his free hand to her. “Belle. Come sit with us darling. Come sit with us,”

It feels like the heaven he knows he doesn’t deserve when Belle grasps his other hand, then reaches out to pull Henry’s to her. They sit together, holding each other tight. 

It feels like family.

It feels like home.


End file.
